My new student
It’s Monday. Mikaere is up early and getting ready to attend the first day of his course. He is anxious or should I say excited? I also need to get off reasonably early and so have a shower straight after Mikaere. I wish him luck and, after a few attempts, he gets the Lambretta running and is off. I have some muesli and yoghurt and set off on foot to the university. I don't know when I’ll see this Maria. I have a lecture for my second year course at 10 and then there’s the inaugural meeting of the curriculum review committee at 2. Otherwise I’m free and will stay in my office. It is 10 to 10 and a young woman arrives, says she is Maria and can we meet for lunch at the cafeteria at 12.15? I have no time before my class to say anything except agree. The class goes only moderately well. I’m a little distracted and completely miss the point of a question until another student helpfully restates it and I’m back on track. I have coffee in the tea room, chatting to McDuff. His focus is still on Sammy’s death but with the main concern being the loss of his favourite lunch spot. I suggest that a few weeks without a replacement would be a proper recognition for Sammy. He reluctantly agrees and says he’ll see me this afternoon. For the moment I’d forgotten he was a member of the committee.
I need to review my thoughts and strategy for the afternoon’s meeting. I have experience in this kind of situation. The official goal is a bold new design that will be attractive to new students, will have intellectual coherence across the Faculty and will use human resources efficiently and effectively. The subtext is reducing the salary bill and culling uneconomic subjects. The fight could get dirty. I know not to introduce ideas of my own, not overtly that is, but let the discussion flow and fall back on the procedure and timetable that has already been determined. I need to pretend that the official goal is achievable longer than anyone else can maintain the pretence and allow a messy compromise to emerge that involves the least, or preferably no, blood on the floor. Hopefully the compromise can be dressed up in sufficiently attractive language that it resembles the official goal, if you don’t look too closely. The first meeting will involve introductions and a slow start. I know what I need to do. Even so, my thoughts on this are sufficiently distracting that I end up a couple of minutes late for my appointment.
Now where is Maria? I do hope I recognize her. I only saw her briefly and she looks kind of anonymous. Then she comes up to me with two coffees and two brown bags of lunch. She says it would be nice to sit outside. Well it is rather a dull day but not cold and we can sit on one of the barbeque tables placed under some trees with yellow blossoms. I say that we won’t be overheard. “No we won’t,” she agrees.
After a brief pause I initiate the proceedings by saying, “I got your message at the Grounds of Enlightenment.”
“Good. I will be working with you alongside Detective Sergeant Hope Wilson.”
“Is my office bugged?”
“Not that we are aware of, but we are taking precautions. I am about to put a phone on the table. When we leave, you pick it up. You can be in touch with Hope Wilson with it, mainly in an emergency. Her number is under ‘Willy’ in the contacts list.”
“Is she really called that?”
“Not at work. I’m enrolled for a directed study with you and we’ll meet once a week. You can write me notes, as required and I can give you messages too.”
“I need to tell you that on Friday morning a car picked me up which I thought was a police vehicle. It took me to Zoltan.”
“Yes, we followed you.”
“I didn’t send the email postponing my interview.”
“Yes, we suspected that.”
“Clearly Mr. Fawkes was assigned to me to stop me talking openly to you.”
“Yes we realised, especially after you managed to speak to Hope Wilson briefly.”
“What’s going to happen now? Are you going to secure my email address?”
“No we’ll leave your email as it is for the moment. Just carry on as usual.”
I’m not sure what else to say, but I start to worry about the graduate student cover story.
“Are you going to produce some work?”
“Yes. I have someone who can help me, if necessary.”
“Do you have a topic?”
“Yes, and an outline.” She gets out some papers from her bag and puts them on the table, with one covering the phone.
I have a look at the outline. It is plausible enough. I write down some references. “Just look at Chapter Two, and for this one, include it but look her up on Wikipedia. I wrote most of that.” I suggest some section headings. We talk generally about the topic and she seems to be on to it, roughly speaking. I say, “I could forget you are a police officer.”
“Well not strictly a police officer. Let’s just say, another branch of government.”
We finish up and I slip the phone into my pocket. We go our separate ways and I still have a little while before the meeting. In the meeting I’m perhaps a little distracted but relaxed. I get to know the members and there is some discussion of procedure and McDuff raises the question whether redundancies are planned. I wish he hadn't asked that, but I have a prepared answer: that I have been given no target for redundancies, but I cannot completely rule them out. What is likely is that over time the staffing complement will be reduced, hopefully using a sinking lid. That is as much reassurance as I am able to give and it seems to satisfy them for the time being. As a way of framing the curriculum review process we agree to do a SWOT analysis at the next meeting: the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats for the University. It wasn’t my suggestion, but it may serve to suggest that business as usual is not an option. The secretary to the meeting is also going to present enrollment data in graphic form for the last five years reflecting majors and interdisciplinary programmes as a basis for later discussion. We finish up in reasonably good spirits.
After a little administrative work back at my office I walk home, after rather an eventful day. I make a small detour to pick up a couple of bottles of wine and arrive home at the same time as Mikaere. Rather more practically, he had been to the supermarket on his way home and had bought quite a few basic provisions including a couple of chicken breasts to be the basis of dinner. He has had a busy day too, and is excited by his new course. I pour wine for myself and offer him a glass. He says he isn’t a big drinker but accepts. I ask about the course. “Are all the rest women?” I ask.
“No, there is one other boy.”
“I expect you will stick together.”
Mikaere looks a little embarrassed and says, “Yes, I think we might.”
I drop that line of discussion and raise what had been on my mind earlier. “Are you going to tell Aroha about your change of course plans?”
He looks more embarrassed. “I wish you would tell her.”
“Are you sure that is best? I will if you absolutely want me to,” I respond.
“Please do. I want her to know before I go back next weekend.”
“Alright, if that’s what you really want.” Mikaere looks relieved and then we start to make some dinner. He takes the lead and I help.
Lying in bed I think about the puzzle that is Mikaere but then think about my supposed graduate student Maria. I wish we had talked things over more, but clearly she was not anxious to interrogate me. I don’t think they see me as a suspect. Then my thoughts go to ‘my’ Maria and how we first met. It was during the ‘tour’ of the Boston area by Satan’s Whores. While really very small scale, it did have something of the rock star experience. We had both young male fans and young female fans. Some of the male fans in particular took the band name rather literally. Our drummer, Hanna, made the most of the situation and had sex with a different boy after every performance. Our keyboard player, Jemma, the exchange student from Boston, was rather more choosy but certainly disappeared with a boy at least a couple of times. Our lead singer and lead guitarist, Erika was an item with the bass player, Lotta. That left me. Well the truth of the matter was that I was a virgin. I was popular and had been out with several boys I quite liked, but it didn’t feel quite right. Maria, who was only fifteen at the time followed the band around and eventually seduced me. For a brief while, it was a magical time. But the ‘grand tour’ soon came to an end and, after my return to Finland, we only barely kept in touch, until much later when I arrived in Connecticut.
© 2020 David Lumsden